


5 Times Sherlock and John Acted Like a Couple (and the One Time They Became One)

by Bullet_Sangwich



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1, Becoming a Couple, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullet_Sangwich/pseuds/Bullet_Sangwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different times in which Sherlock and John act as a couple, whether they do it for a case or they do it unconciously, and one time in which they act so well, they actually become one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Sherlock and John Acted Like a Couple (and the One Time They Became One)

1

Sherlock looked at the invitation that John dropped onto the consulting detective's stomach. "A wedding? Dull," said Sherlock, throwing the invitation on the coffee table. He stretched out on the sofa and shut his eyes.

John rolled his eyes and dropped into his usual chair. "Why is it dull? It's a wedding, Sherlock. It's supposed to be happy."  
"I am aware of the concept of marriage, John. The idea of sitting through a ceremony in which a room full of idiots cry either at the idea of the bride and groom being together or wishing to death that they will have a significant other, however, is not something I wish to be a part of."

"But Sherlock, it's Stamford's wedding. The least you could do is show up and pretend to have a good time. After all, he introduced us. I think we owe him that."  
John froze when he realized what he just said. Sherlock looked at him, slightly puzzled. "I-I didn't mean.. You know what I meant. We're all mutual friends. It would be the correct thing to do," he said, his cheeks growing warmer by the second. Sherlock stared for a second, then went back to staring at the ceiling. "Fine, I'll go to the wedding."

***

"John, do I have to wear a tie?" Sherlock shouted from his bedroom. "Yes, Sherlock. It's a formal event. Ties are kind of required." John shouted back. It was the day of Stamford's wedding, and John was already struggling to cooperate with Sherlock's childish demands. Finally, when Sherlock was ready, John looked at the time.  
"Damn it, Sherlock! We are late for the wedding!" 

"I apologize John, I couldn't find a tie suitable enough for the occasion." Sherlock looked at John apologetically as they climbed into a cab. "Where are you boys off to today?" asked the cabbie. "Kenwood House, please. If you could go quickly, that would be lovely," said John.

The cab ride was slightly awkward. John was perfectly fine, but Sherlock was fidgeting quite a bit. He was slightly worried that John was mad at him for making them late. 

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know Sherlock. I'm not upset. Don't worry, okay?" He looked at Sherlock with a reassuring smile and put his hand on Sherlock's to comfort him. Sherlock looked at John's hand and then into John's eyes. He noticed the deep blue of John's eyes and the length of his eyelashes when he blinked. 

"Here we are," the cabbie said uncomfortably. John snapped out of his trance and took his hand away from Sherlock's. Getting out of the cab, he felt his heart drop slightly when the warmth under his palm had gone away. Sherlock had quietly moved to John's side as they walked across the field to the wedding.

2

John paced back and forth between refrigerator and pantry, trying to make a list of things they might need for the week. 

"Hey Sherlock, do we have milk? I can't seem to find it," John said with his head in the fridge. "No, I used it all for an experiment a few days ago," replied Sherlock. 

"A few days ago? Why didn't you tell me then?"

"Because I figured you would have noticed due to your insatiable need to drink milk when you come home from work or after a case."

John sighed and wrote it down on his paper. He looked into the living room and saw Sherlock in his chair, fingers steepled, deep in thought. He noticed the dark curls falling in the detective's eyes, the cupid's bow mouth, his long, slender fingers under his chin. 

He shook his head, trying to clear these thoughts. That was a little weird, he thought. 

Sherlock noticed John staring at him and blushed a little when John looked away. He watched John go back to his business in the kitchen. "John, when do you plan on going to the store?" he asked.

"Hm.. When I'm done with this list, I suppose. Why do you ask?" John noticed a little colour on Sherlock's pale cheeks, but disregarded it.

"I'd like to accompany you. If you'll have me." Sherlock thought about his choice of words, but decided to stick by them.

"Sure, that'd be great. I could really use the help. It's quite a list." He flashed Sherlock a cheeky grin and Sherlock shot one right back.

***

John was carrying a few heavy bags into the flat and almost dropped them on the way into the kitchen. As soon as he put them down, he began to relax and started putting things away. Sherlock walked into the kitchen a few minutes later with a few other bags. "Is that everything?" John asked. "Yes. Where can I put these?" Sherlock said, holding up a few cans.

"You can put them in here," John said, pointing at the cupboard next to him. Sherlock stepped behind John and stretched over him to put the cans into it. John had finished taking the items out of the paper bag and folded it up. As he turned around to put it elsewhere, his face was extraordinarily close to Sherlock's. He looked into his eyes, just as he had in the cab to the wedding weeks ago, and Sherlock looked back into his.

"Excuse me, Sherlock," he said shakily.

Sherlock moved out of the way, not losing eye contact until John flew to his room.

3

Later that night, Sherlock was downstairs watching telly when he realized he was hungry. He thought it was strange, with food being transport and all. He began to think about love, and how love was also just transport. 

Love.

Love. 

John. 

John? Do I love John? If I did, what would I do for John to make him love me back? I could cook a meal for us. That would work, seeing as food and love are transport. Therefore, food equals love. Obvious.

Sherlock set to work immediately.

***

A few hours had passed since John had gone to his room. He had fallen asleep after the business in the kitchen. He looked at the clock.

6:30? God, I must have been asleep for a while. That whole thing with Sherlock was way too weird. I was close enough to kiss him! Imagine if I had.. I bet he's never kissed anyone. He probably has no idea what to do with his tongue. I bet his lips are soft..

John imagined kissing Sherlock for a moment and then realized what the tiny fantasy in his head was doing to him; he had accidentally gotten himself hard. While thinking about engaging in certain activities with his flatmate. Oh, no.

It was then that he smelled something burning downstairs. He rushed downstairs to see Sherlock trying to get something out of the oven, but burning himself touching the metal of the pan that was in there. John ran into the kitchen and grabbed some oven mitts to take out whatever was in the oven.

"Oh God, Sherlock, are you alright?" John said, looking at the man's hands.

"I'm f-fine," Sherlock stammered, holding back tears at the immense pain at his fingertips. 

John rushed back to his bedroom to get his first aid kit. He sat Sherlock down in a chair and knelt in front of him, applying burn cream and bandages to his fingers. "Why on Earth were you cooking? You never do that," John said, trying to relieve some of the stress.

Sherlock looked at John and smiled. "I thought you might have been hungry, so I tried to cook for us."

"Well that worked out well, didn't it?"

They both laughed a little before putting their attention back on Sherlock's wounds.

"Tell you what, Sherlock. Why don't we just go out and get some fish and chips, okay?"

Sherlock wiped a tear from his eye. "Okay."

4

"Follow my lead, John." said Sherlock. John looked at him and nodded, readying himself for the situation ahead. They were on the doorstep of a suspected serial murderer, about to "casually" interrogate him, as Sherlock put it. "Hello, Mr. Weiss. Mind if we come in? We just moved in across the way and wanted to meet a few neighbors." Before the short, pink faced, tubby man could answer, the two men were already in his front parlor examining everything.

"Erm, it's nice to meet you. What are your names?"

"I'm Sherlock, and this is John."

"Oh.. is he your-"

"Partner? Yes." John's eyes widened and he became flushed. "Been together a while, haven't we dear?" He silently gave Sherlock a look that plainly said I'm going to kill you later. Sherlock gave him a slightly apologetic look before John answered, "Yes."

They sat there for a few minutes before Sherlock decided that they suddenly had to leave. They walked out of the tubby man's flat, and just as John was about to throttle Sherlock, a shot was fired in their direction. They took off, trying to get him to chase them so that he ran right into Lestrade and his officers could arrest him. 

John and Sherlock ran right next to each other as the fat man was chasing them. Sherlock gave John a quick smile, and right as John looked, he tripped. Sherlock stopped and ran back towards John, but a bullet grazed his arm. He shouted in pain, but quickly ducked around a corner. His vision was starting to get foggy, but he kept his gaze on John.  
John got to his knees, but was stopped by the gun in the middle of his forehead. He tried to stay calm, but quickly looked over at Sherlock, who was wincing in pain around a corner. He knew Sherlock was panicking because the plan was not going accordingly, but also because John was in immense danger.

He looked up, past the barrel of the gun and into the eyes of the suspect. "Got anything to say before I blow your fucking brains out?" said Mr. Weiss, cocking his gun. As John took a breath, he grabbed the fat man's wrist in one swift move, twisted it every which way, disarmed him, broke three of his fingers, and twisted his arm so far up his back he could almost touch the back of his neck. He sat on the man's back whilst keeping his grip on the man's arm. "If you fucking move, I will break your arm in five places. Don't fuck with an army captain." He pulled out his cellphone and called Lestrade. "Inspector Lestrade? Yeah, I've got your suspect. We're going to need an ambulance, however. Sherlock was hit by a bullet and I broke three of this fucker's fingers."

When the officers arrived at their location and arrested Mr. Weiss, John rushed over to where Sherlock was. "Sherlock, are you alright?" He said, removing Sherlock's coat sleeve to closer examine the wound. 

"I'm fine, John. The sooner the ambulance gets here, the better." Sherlock said, wincing at John's light touches on the wound.

"I'm so glad you're alright," John said as he wrapped his arms around his flatmate.

Sherlock was slightly surprised, but very happy at this reaction. He was happy that John wasn't hurt or dead. He wasn't sure what he would do without his flatmate, his blogger, his friend. His only friend.

His John.

5

Some time before Christmas, John was out doing some shopping. He stopped at a nearby ATM to make sure he wasn't spending to much when he saw a black car in his reflection. "Oh dear God, not this." he said to himself.

He climbed in the car, already knowing what was coming. Except this time, Mycroft was in the car, instead of some inconspicuous location.

"What's it today, Mycroft? More on Sherlock's "dirty" history? Or is it Moriarty? Or did you accompany me on this ride because you wanted to have a nice chat-"

"Sherlock has taken quite a shine to you, has he not?" said Mycroft, seeming a little suspicious.

"W-What? What on Earth are you talking about?" John said, voice straining.

"And it seems the feeling is mutual."

"Mycroft, we're not-"

"I am not here to ridicule you, Doctor Watson. I am showing my support for the two of you, should you choose a relationship that is.. a little more than platonic."  
John knew exactly what Mycroft was getting at. He had noticed Sherlock's attitude towards John changing a little bit, but a relationship? With Sherlock? He had considered it every once in a while, but wasn't really sure that Sherlock felt the same. 

"How would you even know that he may have," John almost choked on the word, "feelings for me?"

"Oh, John. I know far more than you think I do."

***

Sherlock was sitting in his chair when he saw John walk in the door. He gave John a quick scan and deduced.

Bags. Christmas gifts for Harry, Mrs. Hudson, and Molly. Maybe Lestrade. Veins in right hand popping out more than usual. High stress situation. Mycroft. Sweat on his brow. A conversation he did not want to be having. Small trace of sweat on his forehead, wiped off. Probably from Mycroft telling him something about himself that he didn't even know. Probably about me. Obvious.

"So, what did my dear brother have to say to you this time?"

Sherlock heard a glass break in the kitchen.

"Damn it Sherlock, how did you know? You made me drop this glass!"

"Apologies, John. I'll clean it up." He walked into the kitchen and begun picking up the larger pieces of glass on the floor.

"It was nothing anyway. Just him being all 'I know everything about everything because I'm the British government.'"

Sherlock looked up at John and as soon as their eyes met, they laughed at John's impersonation of Mycroft. "That was fairly good, you know. I think you left out the part where he's cheating on his diet with a piece of cake every day." John laughed harder at Sherlock's comment. "Oh dear, Sherlock, what are we doing with ourselves?"

"I don't know John. I just don't." Sherlock said as he stood up to meet John's eyes. Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes. "I should probably fini-"  
Sherlock was interrupted by John's lips on his own, his words dying in John's mouth.

+1

Sherlock pulled away for a second, staring at John. "Oh God, Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. If it's not what you want, I'll stop immediately." He looked over John's worried face and smiled. "No need to worry. Mycroft explained my feelings, did he not?"

"Well yeah, but I thought he was lying."

"Does this look like a lie?" He leaned back in and kissed John, this time being a little more forceful than the first kiss. John's eyelids fluttered closed as he gripped the consulting detective and pulled him closer.

Sherlock moved his mouth in unison with John, sliding his tongue on the edge of John's lips, making John sigh into his mouth. He smiled against the kiss, knowing he had done exactly what he wanted to do. John took this as a sign that Sherlock wanted a little competition, so he was determined to give it to him.

He turned them around and pinned Sherlock to the counter, never breaking the kiss. He dug his fingers into Sherlock's curls and sucked his lower lip into his mouth. When Sherlock slightly tilted his head, John moved in with his tongue, swirling circles on Sherlock's tongue. Sherlock's tongue became restless and played along too, almost wrestling with John's. John moved a knee inbetween Sherlock's legs and earned a loud moan from Sherlock.

John could feel himself straining on his zipper. He needed release.

"Sherlock?" he said as he finally broke away from the kiss, panting.

"Yes, John?" 

"Do you want to take this to the sofa?"

Sherlock shook his head, leaving John to count the ways he just screwed up.

"No, John. Bedroom." was all Sherlock could say.

Sherlock kissed John a few more times, and with that reassurance, John led them towards Sherlock's bedroom.

Sherlock laid on his bed, waiting for John to hover over him. He caught John's lips in a fiery passion, taking his tongue and lips into his mouth and sucking on them. As soon as John's crotch rubbed against Sherlock's, they both moaned.

"Is this okay? Is this what you want?" John said as he touched his forehead to Sherlock's.

Sherlock nodded, reaching into his nightstand for his lube bottle. He gave it to John and started unbuttoning his own trousers. John got up and removed his trousers and pants, while Sherlock was finishing. He climbed back over Sherlock and slicked both of their cocks. The second they touched was ecstasy.

John leaned over and kissed Sherlock as he began thrusting, the friction becoming ever so delicious. Sherlock decided to wrap his hand around both erections, earning a loud moan from both men.

"Oh God Sherlock, I don't think I'm going to last long."

"Me either, John."

The heat in John's belly was starting to become more and more obvious as he was getting closer to the edge. All it took was one second.

He looked at Sherlock, writhing beneath him, his face contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. That face destroyed him. He came instantly, coating Sherlock's chest. He got a few more thrusts in before Sherlock came too, making an even more beautiful face than the last. He finally relaxed himself and dropped onto the matress right beside Sherlock.

"Wow, Sherlock. That was just.. incredible."

"Thank you, John."

Sherlock looked at him and kissed him deeply.

"John."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

That night, both men drifted off into a deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the "5 Times" fanfictions, they're really fun to read.
> 
> As for this, this particular story is my first Sherlock fanfic. After my Legend of Korra phase, I stopped writing for a while, so that may or may not have negative affects on this fanfiction. Oh well, I hope you can enjoy it anyway.


End file.
